By John Grey
She says she’s very spiritual.
I’ve no idea what that means.
She obviously has a body.
Does that mean she neither
showers nor cleans her teeth
because they’re not who she is?
And, she adds, she’s in
constant communication with God.
Yet she’s talking to me.
It doesn’t feel like a three way conversation.
And she’s convinced that when
she leaves this mortal coil,
the immortal coil will be waiting.
Paradise, she calls it.
But she doesn’t seem in any hurry
to get there.
She’s not totally opposed
to a relationship.
Of course, looks would not be an issue.
She would want someone like-minded.
But as someone whose mind
is merely window-dressing for the soul,
how would she ever know?
I, on the other hand,
prefer to remain secular
for as long as my life will have me.
Maybe, near the end,
I’ll take a more otherworldly approach.
Like tossing myself a life-raft
as I’m thrown from my sinking ship.
At this moment, I’m in the shower.
When I’m done, I’ll clean my teeth.
I’ll even think of something.
For now, that’s all of me.
John Grey is an Australian poet, US resident. Recently published in Sin Fronteras, Dalhousie Review and Qwerty with work upcoming in Plainsongs, Willard and Maple and Connecticut River Review.